


Bisquits and Babbles

by natmerc



Category: Women's Murder Club (TV)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Character Study, Female Character of Color, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Gen Fic, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-31
Updated: 2008-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natmerc/pseuds/natmerc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The steps to new friendships can come one meal at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bisquits and Babbles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voleuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/gifts).



> This story was originally published for the 2008 femme_fic challenge and was reposted on the AO3 archive in Dec 2010. The original recipient was LJ user voleuse.

Part 1 --

The first meal Cindy Thomas had at the Washburn resisdence consisted of take-out Chinese and french fries cooked in the oven. Claire's older son liked to smother his french fries with ketchup, just like his father, but the younger one wanted mustard pickles on his and vinegar soaked into the fish.

“He must have an acetic acid imbalance somewhere in there, with all that vinegar,” Claire had commented, just after forcibly taking the salt shaker away from her husband and moving away to put it back into the cupboard.

“Can that happen? Because I thought our blood had to be between a certain small range, and it had to be alkaline or you start stripping calcium from your bones, and then they end up with brittle bones, like younger athletes when they're growing fast and drink colas instead of milk and start breaking bones in their twenties.” Cindy pushed the fries around on her plate with her fork, her eyes darting around the room, picking out the pictures, old greeting and birthday cards, the basketball and gym bag in the corner, and the comfortable furniture. It all looked so very nice.

“He's fine.” Claire sat back down at the table and pushed back a thick fall of hair from her face. She shifted, reaching over and nudging Nate's glass of milk closer to his plate and then giving him a pointed look. “They're both growing faster than I can buy clothes for them.”

“Oh. You're so lucky that we live here, with a good food supply or they could be a lot shorter. Of course, there are gangs and other stuff and they're getting to the age where that could be a problem, and you two probably worry about that.”

“Cindy?”

“Hmm?” Cindy stuffed a piece of fish into her mouth, and started chewing. She looked up, realizing that the other four people at the table were staring at her.

“Just eat.”

Part 2 --  

The second meal took place after a very long day wherein Cindy had somehow managed to get herself locked into the trunk of a car driven by robbers from a string of corner store holdups, the last of which had ended in a shooting.

She'd managed to call Lindsay Boxer using her cell phone and there had been an interesting triangulation search from her signal, and the brief identifiers Cindy'd been able to give about the bumpiness of the road surfaces. Before then, Lindsay hadn't apparently known that there were websites devoted to the relative merits of the different routes around the city, that people would actually spend their spare time blogging about them, or that other people would spend their spare time reading about them. Cindy would have told her before, but it hadn't come up.

With a pile of paperwork, and Cindy sporting two scrapes along her shins and a cut on her neck she couldn't remember getting, Lindsay commanded Claire to invite Cindy to dinner and then stomped from the scene.

Cindy rubbed at the small band-aid on her neck, reviewing her day and trying to decide if the cut had happened when she tripped over the garbage can and fallen to the ground, or when the trunk had slammed down on her after she'd hidden in there to get out of view. Funny how she could remember things she'd read from years before, but she couldn't always remember things that she'd done that day. That's an eidetic memory for you.

“Why was she so mad?” Cindy was scanning the cookbooks that Claire had given her, going through them for biscuit recipes. Ed apparently liked them covered by stew and Cindy was looking forward to trying it out herself. She'd only had them for breakfast before.

“Because you put yourself in danger and could have been killed.” Claire was busy chopping vegetables for the stew. The meat had been put in a slow cooker that morning and was practically falling apart.

“Oh. But I really wasn't in danger.”

“Yes. You were.”

Cindy shrugged. “Do you want the full fat, the reduced-fat, or the fat free? You've got recipes for all of them, but I've never found the fat-free ones tasted any good. I make the reduced-fat ones myself, because usually people can't tell the difference, and the full fat ones are really high in fat, and I like to be able to fit into my clothes. I mean, I'm not obsessed about full-fat versus reduced fat, but I'm not a stick like Lindsay or Jill.”

“Reduced fat will be fine. The flour's in the cupboard on your right with the baking soda. The rest should be in the fridge.”

“Why didn't you put the vegetables in with the meat? If you're going to use a slow cooker, I mean. That's why people use them, so that they don't have to spend time cooking when they just get home and I know that you're late a lot of the time, with work and all. It seems like you have to stay late at the morgue and get called out a lot after hours.”

“I like crunchy vegetables and they have more vitamins.”

Cindy rooted through the drawer to find the pastry cutter and then put all the ingredients together in the bowl. She liked cooking, and not having to constantly re-check ingredients or portions was useful, although it had driven her mother nuts.

In a short while the smell of the biscuits filled the room, and Ed had wheeled in to steal a couple of bits of the meat before Clair had chased him out again.

The meal was nice, and Cindy felt a warm glow in the pit of her stomach. It was good, being surrounded by friendly people, being accepted and joining in on the conversation without any expectations of her or demands. Friends.

 

Part 3 --  

When Cindy came bearing pizza, but hardly speaking a word, Claire thought about forcing the issue, but she hadn't gotten far in making supper, and the boys were happy to see the pizza. They were okay with seeing Cindy too, but she was their mother's friend and more tolerated than anything else, although she was good to watch football with. Supper was a quiet affair, at least on Cindy's part. and Claire didn't push.

Afterwards, they ended up in the kitchen together, cleaning up while Ed and the boys settled in front of the television in the other room.

“Want to talk about it?” Claire said.

Cindy kept scrubbing at a red spot on a plate. “Yes. No. I mean, maybe.”

“Take your time.” Claire went over to the table and wiped at the surface, then picked up a couple pieces of green pepper that had managed to land on the floor. When she came back, Cindy was still scrubbing at the plate. “It's clean.”

Cindy rinsed the plate off, put it in the drying rack and then reached for the next one. “You like me, right?”

“You wouldn't be here if I didn't.”

“I mean, I know you don't like me like you like Lindsay or Jill, and we haven't known each other long, but we're friends, right? You know I'm not just using you guys for information, right?”

“What brought all this on?” Claire leaned back against the stove, and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Fight with Jill.”

“Want to tell me about what it was about?”

“No. Not really.”

“You can trust me.” Claire reached out and rubbed at Cindy's shoulder. “I like you. We're friends.”

“Not like you and Lindsay, or you and Jill.” Cindy sniffed, rubbed at her nose with the back of her sleeve and then continued scrubbing.

Claire turned the rub into a poke and then moved over to start drying the dishes. “Of course it's not like the others, we've been good friends for ages. And my friendship with Lindsay is different than mine with Jill, and it's different with you – that doesn't mean it won't get stronger with time.”

“I, it's just that --” She sniffed again.

“Never thought there was something you wouldn't talk about.” The short stack of clean plates clinked as Claire put them away in the cupboard. “You can trust me.”

“I know. Thanks. That means a lot.” Cindy pulled the drain on the water and then started to dry her hands. “Really, it does, but I think I should be going.”

“Cindy?”

“It'll be good. I'll be fine. I'll see you later. You can say goodbye to the others for me, right?” Cindy was halfway into her jacket and had her hand on the latch before Claire had time to move.

“Cindy, listen to me.” She reached out and snagged her arm. “I want you to come by anytime. And I mean that too.” She watched as Cindy blinked back what was probably tears, but the other woman didn't turn around.

And then Cindy reached back and gave her a quick hug and then stepped back to the door. She sniffed again, and looked ready to leave any moment. “My best friend, we'd been friends since we were kids, she died a year ago today, and since then, I don't know. I want to talk about her to remember her, but I don't too.”

“I'm so sorry, Cindy.”

“And her mother's still in shock and doesn't want to talk to me about her, and I've moved away, and my parents never liked her, and my co-workers don't even know, and--”

“Cindy. Come back inside.” Claire tilted her head until she could stare directly into Cindy's eyes. “You can talk to me about her.”

“I don't want to be a fuss.”

“Get in that kitchen. I'll make tea.”

They stared at each other. Cindy sighed and then gave a shaky smile. “Got any peppermint tea? She loved it.”

“Plenty.”


End file.
